


a deal with the shadowed vigilante

by apollune



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, bus stop au, if thats a thing, might redo later, or if you have redbull, strangers are surprisingly nice to you if your beaten up, yeah anyone who isn't wash and tucker are just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2192295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollune/pseuds/apollune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Washington had a rough selection of relationships in his life. Most of them travelled the same path. Argue, make up, argue, and repeat. They all generally ended up the same way too, with him on a doorstep with a box of his things and a sharp pain in his left cheek.</p><p>But never had one gotten him bruised and bloody on a bus stop in the pouring rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a deal with the shadowed vigilante

**Author's Note:**

> working title, please dont judge me.
> 
> if you have any good captain america pickup lines or a better title, please leave me a message in the comments!!
> 
> tumblr: donutsfinebooty.tumblr.com

David Washington had a rough selection of relationships in his life. Most of them travelled the same path. Argue, make up, argue, and repeat. They all generally ended up the same way too, with him on a doorstep with a box of his things and a sharp pain in his left cheek.

But never had one gotten him bruised and bloody on a bus stop in the pouring rain.

Wash had told himself time and time again after his split with C.T. Don’t try anything he said. Don’t do anything that North or York wouldn’t do. But he was reckless, and he ignored the perfectly sane voice in the back of his head. In his defence, it wasn’t his fault that the guy that his ex happened to cheat on him with was actually a boxer. And he technically didn’t know that said boxer was part of an elite fighter gang. That just so happened to meet up every Thursday afternoon. Which was today.

Washington sighed and leaned back, head hitting the metal backboard painfully. He was lucky they hadn’t done any serious damage, like broken bones or anything like that. Just a couple aching punches to the gut and arms, all that jazz. Self-diagnosis: bruised limbs, possible torn ligament in right arm, major headache, broken pride.

After the (generally one-sided) fight he had stumbled his way across a couple blocks to the corner store in hopes to find medication for his throbbing skull. It just happened to be his luck that his change only amounted to enough for a can of RedBull, so he bought that and made his way across the street to where he was now.

And that is why Washington is sitting on a bus stop bench, nursing a can of RedBull and freezing his thoroughly beaten ass off in the icy Valhalla rain.

And he wasn’t lying when he said icy. The thin piece of plastic covering the bench Wash was residing on wasn’t exactly the greatest shelter from the constant stream of liquid snow (ha ha) that was now drenching his shirt. He could practically feel the hypothermia threatening to kill him. With a metaphorical knife. A metaphorically sharp, pointy knife. 

And he thought this day couldn’t get any worse.

At times like these, Wash liked to sit back and think about how much his life turned to shit. It usually left him feeling worse than he already did, but it gave him something to think about that wasn’t the burning pain in the back of his head. Sadly, all he could do was mentally chastise himself for being an idiot and trying to let out his anger on the guy C.T was going out with. Now, he wasn’t a bad fighter, not in the least. But thirty steroid chugging goons were not what he had prepared himself for that morning. Why was he so stupid and reckless? One of the many things he couldn’t answer.

He closed his eyes as he saw a blurred figure in the distance, and crossed his arms in a meek attempt to stay warm. He heard the person stop next to him then sit at the other side of the bench, sighing dramatically.

“Do you know the time?” the confirmed male stranger asked. Wash shook his head and pointed to the shitty standard public issue digital clock built into the wall above his head, wincing painfully in the process. The guy muttered something about the bus coming soon, and fell quiet. An awkward silence ensued, and Wash was seriously considering getting up to leave when the guy spoke again.

“Are you okay, man?”

Wash cracked open an eyelid. The stranger was watching him closely, eyes filled with what could be interpreted as worry. He tried to stop is brain from pointing out that this guy was quite literally a tall dark handsome stranger, and failed miserably. He nodded at the guy, trying to ignore the migraine forming. The stranger frowned.

“Are you sure? Because shit, you don’t look okay.”

Washington mumbled a small “I’m fine”, adjusting his position on the bench so he was squashed up into the corner of the booth. The stranger sighed again, considerably less dramatically this time, as he fiddled with the umbrella in his hand.  
Wash closed his eyes once more and thought about how he shouldn’t be thinking too much considering his condition. He then thought about what he was going to do next. He lived on the other side of the city, and he didn’t want to stay on one of the dingy buses any longer than necessary. As far as he could tell, the closest person’s house was Maine, but he seriously didn’t want to head back there any time soon. York lived a little past him; maybe he could ride to Central and crash at the loft for a day or two. He’s sure York wouldn’t mind, especially after-

“Okay man, stop sitting like that. Seriously.” The stranger said, clutching at the straps of his bag. He was tapping his foot impatiently, which wasn’t really helping Wash’s headache. He opened his eyes to the sight of this random guy staring at him with bright green eyes. Wash grunted.

“How do you want me to sit?” he asked, somewhat annoyed as he reached up to massage his temples.

“Less painfully,” the stranger said simply, inching closer. “And less far away. Come on, I’m not gonna bite. That much, bow chicka bow wow.” He added with a grin.

Wash had the overwhelming urge to hit his head over the metal wall. Instead he just shivered violently and said nothing.

“Aren’t you cold?” the guy asked. He was cold, but he wasn’t about to admit that to a complete stranger. 

“I’m fine.” He replied. The guy scoffed.

“Dude, you are the opposite of fine.” He scratched the back of his head. 

“Do you need, like, an aspirin or something?”

Wash held up his RedBull can. “Yeah, but its okay, I got the closest thing to it.”

“Why not just get a pill or something then?”

“Couldn’t afford it.”

The stranger scratched his chin, smirking. “Couldn’t afford it with your low standards.”

“Believe me, if I had the money right now I would’ve bought a goddamned cocktail. I suppose a carbonated sugar shithole is the only available substitute.”

The stranger nodded, turning away. He stared at the rain for a bit, and Wash looked out as well. The horrible weather wasn’t letting up any time soon, and there was still no bus in sight. There weren’t even any cars. The roads were empty because no one was stupid enough to go out in this kind of weather. No one except him and this random frustratingly attractive guy sitting on a bus stop in perhaps the worst rain storm in the past twenty years.

“Okay dude,” the stranger said, eyebrows furrowed. “I am prepared to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” Washington asked skeptically.

“A deal.” The stranger confirmed. ”Or a trade, if you will.”

Wash kind of didn’t know what they were trading, or what he had to offer, but it felt wrong not to point out the fact that he had nothing to give.

“Shut up. Stop being a buzz kill and ask what this deal entails!”

Washington sighed. “And what does this deal entail?"

The stranger grinned. “Why I’m glad you asked! Here’s my proposition. You get my major fucking hella warm blue supporting hoodie, umbrella and some money for an aspirin or some shit, sorry I can’t do anything about your arms and shit.” His eyes darted to the addressees bruised limbs, then looked back at his eyes. “All that if…” he gestured to the can in Wash’s hand. “…you give me your super jacked up RedBull. Plus I won’t tax you for backwash!”

Washington pretended to think. “No deal,” he said, taking a quick sip of his drink as a ‘fuck you’. The guys face fell.

“C’mon man, think about it! You get all cosy and warm and dry, plus a pain free head. Win for you. Then, I get to quench my undying thirst, in for me.” A pause. “Bow chicka bow wow.” The stranger smirked. A compelling argument.

Wash sighed. It was a pretty good deal for him, and if his judgement of character was in tune, this guy didn’t seem dangerous, like a murderer or rapist. He was pretty cold too.

“…Fine.” He replied quietly, and the stranger chuckled.

“I knew you’d pull through.” He grinned, pulling off his hoodie. The guy was wearing a thin v-neck that didn’t look warm at all.

“Are you sure you want to give me your jacket? You’re no better than me.” Wash asked raising his eyebrows and attempting to drag his eyes away from the guys chest. The stranger shook his head.

“Nah man, ‘m good.” He said as Wash pulled the hoodie on. Holy shit it was warm. The guy broke out in a cocky grin. “Hey, you look good in my clothes. I’d bet you’d look better with them off though.” He waggled his eyebrows as he started unzipping his bag and Wash groaned. Definitely a rapist.

“Yeah, I’m sure your warmed up by the pure love you receive from complete strangers.” He muttered sarcastically. The guy stopped rummaging through the pockets as a look of pure revelation dawned upon his face.

“Oh my god, I’m like a saint to the poor.” He looked at Wash pointedly. “I am Jesus to the homeless of Valhalla.” He felt that statement was intended for him.

“I’m not homeless!” he protested, pulling at the drawstrings of the hoodie. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket.

“Sure you’re not, random beat up only-enough-for-soda guy.” The stranger said, whipping out a battered wallet and fishing out a ten dollar note. “What is your name, anyway?”

Wash paused. “Washington.”

The stranger looked like he was holding back a laugh. “Like the state? Patriotic type, I see.” He paused before handing him the money. “Mind if I call you Wash?”

“Yes.” Was Wash’s immediate reply. No one called him Wash except his closest friends.

“Alright then Wash,” the guy grinned and ruffled his hair, holding a hand out. “I’m Tucker.”

They shook hands and Wash took a quick swig of his drink before handing the can to Tucker. “Sorry, I already drunk half of it.” He said apologetically.

“Nah, it’s cool. The deal is upheld and thyne thirst is quenched.”

Wash scoffed at his misuse of the word ‘thyne’ but didn’t mention it out loud. The guy is risking hypothermia for him. He figured he should thank him, but when it came to things like that, it was something he tended to avoid. Either way, it couldn’t be stopped.

“Thank you,” he murmured, wrapping the hoodie tighter around himself. ”For all this.” Tucker smiled warmly. He had a nice smile.

“S’okay man. Another day in the life of the Shadowed Vigilante.” He jokes.

“Shadowed Vigilante?” Wash can’t help but laugh a little at the stupid title. “Are you kidding me?”  
Tucker throws his hands up in protest. “C’mon, I just came up with it then. I reckon it’s pretty good. Nice allusion to my heritage.” He gasps dramatically, finger jabbing at his chest. “Are you racist?”

Wash pushes away the accusatory finger pointed at him. “No, not last I checked.”

Tucker snaps his fingers. “I get it, its because you don’t have a fucking epic name like I do.” He thought for a moment. “Hey no wait! You can be Captain America!”

Wash rolled his eyes. “Already taken."

Tucker grinned cheekily. “You know I have a powerful weapon made from the hardest material on earth.” He paused for a second. “I also have this shield.”

And then something amazing happened. Washington broke down into uncontrollable laughter. This is not a natural occurrence. So unnatural, in fact, that it was three times more likely that a long-extinct volcano would erupt over an entire city before that very man doubled over, the odds were. If so, then a whole lot of people were swallowing ash because the man himself was snorting like theres no tomorrow.

When he finally got a hang of himself, Wash found Tucker gaping at him, eyes wide, mouth open with an incredulous expression, like he just saw something unbelievable. Wash raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked quizzically.

“I made Wash laugh.” The look of disbelief was still plastered across his face.

Wash’s mouth quirked up a little.  
“And what makes you think that that is such a feat?”

Tucker shrugged slightly. “You don’t seem like the guy who laughs that much.”

Washington fell silent for a minute there. It was true. He hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. York always called him a quote unquote gruff old fucker with a pole up his ass. He didn’t really laugh at even the best jokes. And here he was, wheezing for breath over the shittiest pun he has ever heard uttered in the history of ever. It was a weird sensation.

They were both silent for a couple moments before Tucker said something that Wasington would have laughed at again if not for how serious Tucker was about it.

“You have a nice laugh.” The smile he wore was genuine.

Wash could feel his face going red. He sunk deep into the hoodie and mumbled incoherently. Tucker smiled even wider, before glancing at the clock above Wash’s head. His jaw dropped.

“Holy shit, the bus should have been here ten minutes ago!” he exclaimed, looking the street up and down. No vehicle in sight. Tuckers shoulders slumped comically.

“Mustn’t be coming.” He grumbled, checking the time again before sighing. “Ah well, I’m fucking late anyway.” He placed the umbrella next to Wash and nodded. “Later, state guy.”

He was halfway across the street in the pouring rain when Wash stood up. “Wait!” he shouted, holding up the umbrella. “I don’t really need this. You take it.”

Tucker shook his head, and Wash was beginning to wonder if this guy could even possibly be this nice. “No way man, you are not getting my jumper wet.” He gazed at the clothing for a second. “You owe me one, by the way. Not gonna forget that.” He looked back at Wash’s eyes. “Plus, the Shadowed Vigilante made a deal. Gotta stick with the deal.” He kept walking.

“Bye Tucker,” Wash said, pulling the blue hood up.

“Seeya Wash.”

Washington watched the ‘Shadowed Vigilante’ walk down the street, already drenched. Tucker gave him a grin and wave before rounding the corner. After a couple minutes, Wash pulled the umbrella up and walked to the store, buying an aspirin with Tucker’s money, then began making his way to Central. Buses were far too unreliable, it seemed.

He thought about what had just happened. He was beat up by a fight gang, made a deal with a stranger, and was now walking two miles to his friend’s house to crash. Oh man, York is gonna have a field day.

He still had a major migraine, a possible torn ligament in his right arm and bruises littering his body, but somehow, curled up in a borrowed hoodie with a borrowed umbrella and a (kind of) borrowed aspirin, it didn’t hurt quite as much as it used to.

**Author's Note:**

> first story posted both here and on tumblr (kinda)! and wowee is it a long one.
> 
> began with an idea i came up with while it was fucking flooding here and my bus was late. of course it emerged tuckington. did I expect anything less??
> 
> probably not the best, I'll try to edit it later when (if) i have the time. i hate to make my first story here a goddamned wash pov. damn sure i am dumb.
> 
> if you have any feedback, please leave it in the comments. 
> 
> thanks guys!!


End file.
